


First Encounters With The Winchesters

by deanandsam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7905211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanandsam/pseuds/deanandsam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of first time meetings with the Winchesters by various Spn characters.<br/>In no particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pamela Barnes, psychic.

  
When Bobby Singer called to say his nephews required my services, I'd been expecting a couple of younger versions of himself to show up, complete with trucker caps, a week's stubble and in a state of all round grubbiness.  
Imagine my surprise and delight when I opened the door on two GQ male models with twinkling green eyes and killer smiles.

For a moment, all thoughts of the upcoming seance vacated my mind to be replaced with a vision of a Winchester sandwich in which I was the eager filling.

Mmm! Those boys oozed sex from every pore, and I promised myself when the job was over, I'd indulge in a mouthwatering threesome!

By the checking out I was getting, I didn't think it would take more than a gentle shove on my part to set the ball rolling.  
The taller of the two seemed eager enough, though Dean nickered at the idea of including his younger brother, but I was convinced I could make him see reason.

Alas, I never did get to see those abs which I'm certain were concealed beneath the plaid shirts which covered all that hotness!  
Instead I got a little studio pad in heaven, compliments of Dean and Sam.

Only then did I get to understand the fate reserved for all those who sailed in the wake of the Winchesters...death and destruction.

One good thing about heaven though, is that I can relive my greatest hits and even elaborate on them, and guess which is right up there in the top three!

Yup. I get to bite into that Winchester sandwich whenever I please, and I can assure you it tastes every bit as luscious as I'd imagined.

The end


	2. The Impala.

The first time Dean and I met, he was twenty-nine and I was all of five years old.

I was still a youn'un really, though I'd already covered many miles of asphalt bringing the word of the Lord to the hard-working folk around the country.

 

That day in the used auto yard, a cocky young man in a leather jacket came right up to me, strolling through the rows of cars on show as if he knew me; knew exactly which car he was looking for.

It was Dean Winchester though I didn't realise it back then.

He didn't want me for himself however. He'd picked me out for his companion, another dark-haired guy whom I'd noticed a few days ago inspecting a Volkswagen which he'd seemed intentioned to buy.  
But clearly, the young stranger's advice to choose me instead had been taken to heart, for he came for me and not the Volkswagen.

 

I never set eyes on Dean again until many years and many miles later when I was parked outside Lawrence General Hospital.  
John had proudly carried his new-born son out through the main doors, his beautiful wife by his side.

A little family to be proud of, I mused as I watched them approach.

 

But with the joy of Dean's birth came an uncomfortable awareness, as the destiny of the Winchesters played out, that the young man I'd seen in the past was the very same as was growing to adulthood before my eyes.

I didn't pretend to understand the dynamics of the situation. After all, I'm a classic Chevy Impala, not Einstein, but my anxiety and trepidation grew exponentially as the years passed and I became solely Dean's.

 

Now I understood that Dean had chosen me not so much for his father back in nineteen seventy-three, but for his future self.  
He knew I'd be his, though why and how he'd ended up back there, I was still to discover.

The end


	3. Bobby Singer.

He introduced himself as John Winchester, a tall, handsome, dark-haired guy, dressed in stroppy jeans and a cloak of tormented melancholy.

Over his shoulder I could see the black lines of a Chevrolet Impala. Well, whoever he was, he had good taste in cars.  
"You Bobby Singer?"  
"Yeah. You looking for a spare part for your ride out there?"

He gave rueful snort. "I wish, but that's not why I'm here."

Well, there were only two reasons anyone came to my yard, and if it wasn't for parts, then it was for somethin' far more dangerous.

"Missouri Mosely gave me your name. She told me you'd be able to set me on the right track."

I was getting ready to give my standard answer to knuckle-headed, wannabe rookie hunters, which was always the same; 'stay the fuck away from the supernatural', when from the corner of my eye I caught sight of a small shadow popping up in the back seat of the Impala, and I found myself staring at a kid, his nose pressed against the glass.

I glanced back at Winchester. Maybe I'd been too hasty in branding him a hunter.  
Any hunters I knew, and I knew many, didn't drag their kids along on hunting trips.

"Just what are you here for again?" I asked.

"I told ya. Missouri said you were the one to go to for info on what's out there. So you gonna help me or not?"

"That a kid you got in the car?"  


Winchester bristled, his features darkening. I was guessing it wasn't the first time he'd been asked about the child."

 

"What's it to you, Singer?" he grunted  
"Look," I warned. "Hunting's not a gig if you got a kid in tow."  


"If you're not gonna give me a hand, tell me who will. You gotta know some hunters who won't be as picky about showing me the ropes," he almost raged.

I was tempted to shut the door in his face and send him on his way, but I could see by the stubborn set of his jaw that if I did refuse to let him in, he'd drag the poor kid around until he found what he was looking for.

"Yeah, okay," I said. "Come on in, and get that kid in here. It's cold out. You're not gonna let him freeze in the car, are you?"

Winchester nodded. "Thanks. I'll go get the boys."

"Boys....?" I called after him, taken aback. There was more than one!  


Ignoring me completely, the jerk made his way back to the car, only to reappear with a toddler swaddled in a blanket, and a kid who couldn't be more than six or seven trailing behind, wide eyes staring up at me as he crossed the threshold into the house.

"Are you out of your friggin' mind? Dragging two little kids around while brushing up on your hunting techniques?" I growled.

John glared at me coldly. "My boys go where I go."

 

"Come through to the kitchen," I sighed. Wasn't the poor children's fault if their dad was stir-crazy!

"Ain't got much in the way of kiddie stuff, but there's gotta be some milk in the fridge, and Maisie, my next door neighbour, came by earlier with a home-baked apple pie."

The kitchen was warm, and that's when I got to see the toddler in John's arms. He unwrapped the kid like a mummy from its bandages, and a mop-haired little tyke emerged from the blanket's folds.  
He was every bit as cute as his freckled-faced big brother.

"This is Sammy," John explained. "And that's Dean."

"Dean," I said, holding out my hand. "I'm Bobby Singer."  
The kid glanced at his father, who nodded.  
Only then did he take my proffered hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr Singer," he recited solemnly with the savoir-faire of an adult.

Well, if nothing else, Winchester had taught his boy manners.

"I guess you won't say no to some pie, huh. Maisie makes the best pie in the entire state.  
And how about a big glass of milk to go with it?"

The baby in John's arms began to struggle, holding out chubby arms to his big brother, his lower lip quivering.  
"Sammy first," Dean piped up. "He's hungry. Dad didn't want to stop until we got here."

Pulling out a sippy cup from the duffel by his dad's side, he held it out to me.

John didn't meet my eyes when I shot daggers at him.  
Well, I reckoned. If he was crazy enough to drag two little kids around on hunting trips, anything could be expected of him!"

"Right kiddo," I said taking the cup from Dean's hand. "Let's get some warm milk into your baby brother, then you're both gonna tuck into as much pie as you can eat.

When the kid gazed up at me, all wide eyes and goofy smile, I felt my heart swell, and my gut told me this kid and his baby brother would cause me a barrel load of joy and even more pain.

Never had my gut been more prophetic!

The end


End file.
